


In This Moment

by paintitb1ack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU!Michael - Freeform, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Brotherly Bonding, Dean Winchester Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Lucifer - Freeform, Pre-Season/Series 14, Sam Winchester Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, gadreel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-17 05:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintitb1ack/pseuds/paintitb1ack
Summary: It takes eight years and one quite unfriendly possession by Michael the archangel, but Dean finally decides to talk to Sam about Lucifer and Gadreel.





	In This Moment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caramiela](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Caramiela).



> “The greatest crime now would be to walk away from what we’ve shared and suffered. In many ways, we need each other. We’re the only ones who will know what this feels like.” - Hannibal

It’s only after the third nightmare that Dean decides he’s ready to talk. 

He leaves his bedroom to where Sam is sitting in the library, feet resting on one of the chairs, a comic book in his lap. 

The younger hunter has made his way through every single Marvel movie and, in true Sam Winchester fashion, has been researching everything even  _ remotely  _ pertaining to what could happen in the next film. He’s currently flipping through  _ Avengers,  _ Volume 4, #12, which details what happens when Tony Stark gets ahold of the gauntlet. On the table is his laptop, which is replaying  _ Infinity War  _ for the sixth time, this time with commentary. 

Sam pauses the movie the moment he hears his brother, cutting off what sounds like one of the Russo brothers commenting on Chris Hemsworth’s physique - something that probably happens whenever the guy is on set. When the third  _ Thor  _ movie premiered, Sam and Dean were both at the first showing, poking each other every time Jeff Goldblum made an appearance. They grew up around the emergence of the  _ Jurassic Park  _ trilogy, prompting the long-lasting crush they both had on the leather-wearing, wisecracking Doctor Ian Malcolm. After  _ Thor: Ragnarok,  _ Sam and Dean agreed upon two things: One, Goldblum hadn’t lost a single step; and two, there was absolutely no doubt that the way Loki climbed the ranks as quickly as he did was because he was getting dicked down by Goldblum on a regular basis.

“Thanos getting his ass handed to him?” Dean asks as he crosses the floor.

“Not yet.” Sam shuts his laptop. “Thor and Eitri are still trying to make the axe.” Seeing how his brother is covering his eyes, he asks, “What the hell are you doing?”

Dean raises a finger. “Me first. You got pants on?”

The boy glances down at his jeans, then back up at his brother as he replies, confused, “Yeah?”

Satisfied with that answer, the older man drops his arms. “Just wanted to make sure you were decent. Thor is ripped as hell in that movie, so…”

“So you thought I might be jacking off to Chris Hemsworth.”

Dean shrugs. “Hey, I don’t know. It’s not like you don’t have a history with being drawn to dirty blondes.”

With a heavy sigh, Sam closes the comic book and places it on the table. His brother has always had a good sense of humor in that he’s exceedingly clever and overflowing with pop-culture references. He’s also become quite good at gallows humor, though that’s not completely unexpected for someone with such a dark history. The only problem is that he sometimes picks on things that should not be touched. Sam understands that this is one of his coping mechanisms, but that doesn’t mean it still isn’t exhausting, or even offensive.

“What do you want, Dean?” He asks, sounding more irritated than he intends. He’s been trying to get him to converse since they kicked Michael out, but the older man has been avoiding him at every turn. Until now.

Dean sits carefully down across from his brother, thumbs fiddling beneath the table as he tries to find the right words. “I, uh… I’ve been having… When I sleep, I…” He feels his father’s voice prickling at his skin, demanding that he ignore the dreams, that he be strong, that he  **_shut the fuck up and deal with it yourself._ **

With a wave of his hands, Dean quickly clamors out of his chair. “You know what? Never mind. It’s, uh, it’s stupid.” He’s just turning to leave when he hears his brother quietly ask, “You’re having nightmares?”

Nails pull at the blood the older hunter feels layering his forearms, blood that is no longer there. Michael killed a lot of people while he was possessing Dean, too many to count. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then why did you come in here?” Sam leans back, knowing that standing up might prompt his brother to flee the room.

Crossing his arms, Dean shrugs. “BM-baiting.”

“BM-baiting?” The boy raises his eyebrows. “You’re threatening me with a bowel movement?”

“You know what I mean, jackass,” Dean says, the slight humor in his brother’s voice relaxing him a little. “Brotherly Moment-baiting. Make everyone think we’re going to talk but we just circle the problem instead.”

“Well, we’ve already done that God knows how many times. You think maybe we should actually discuss it for once?” Sam can see Dean’s hesitance, but he can also see the intense need to share what he’s feeling. The boy himself has experienced this feeling over and over again since he left Stanford, but both embarrassment and his desire not to burden his brother have kept him from truly talking about the traumas he’s experienced. He would be upset that Dean gets to share what it was like to be possessed first, but that’s his own fault. Sam has had so many chances over the years, but he always shuts himself down. That’s not to say that Dean hasn’t cut potential conversations off too, but of course Sam would never admit it.

It takes him a moment, but Dean finally breathes out a quiet “okay” before slowly taking a seat back at the table.

The silence that follows signals to Sam that his brother isn’t going to share without a little more prompting, so he asks, “What do you dream about?”

“Killing.” Dean’s reply his immediate, his secrets like a balloon ready to burst. “I see myself killing humans, angels, demons. I see myself killing Jack and Cas. I see myself…” His eyes flick to his little brother then dart quickly away. “I see myself killing you.”

“He told you---”

“He  _ showed _ me.” Seeing the furrow of Sam’s brow, he releases a shaky breath. “I killed Jack and Cas with a snap of my fingers. I broke their necks. A quick death. But you… I took longer with you.”

The boy wants to reach across the table, to take hold of his hand and comfort him, but he knows that will only make things worse. While Sam found himself awash with fear after his own possession, Dean has become angry. The smallest of things set him off, like the time he spilled his coffee and ended up whipping the mug at Sam’s head when the boy tried to calm him down.

“Do you know how many muscles the eye is connected by?” Dean doesn’t wait for an answer. “Seven. There are seven muscles. And I removed each of them, one by one.” He feels a bitter burst of laughter caught in his throat. “I didn’t even know that was possible. But I did it.”

“Dean---”

“You want to know what I dream about?” The older hunter asks, anger tinging his voice. “I dream about  _ that _ . Every single night, I dream that I’m killing  _ innocent people _ , that I’m killing  _ you _ .  _ Over _ and  _ over _ and  _ over _ again.” Shoulders tighten as he folds his hands in his lap. “While Michael was possessing me, he sometimes let me sleep. And when he did, he forced me to dream. About you. But when I was awake---”

“He tortured you,” Sam softly cuts in.

“He didn’t even  _ touch  _ me,” his brother hisses, trying to ignore his little brother’s barely perceptible flinch as he leans in. “He woke me up to watch him kill people, to watch  _ me  _ kill people.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Dean.”

This time the hunter actually allows himself to laugh. “I let him in. I  _ knew  _ this could happen and I still let him in.”

Sam digs his nail into his palm, trying to ward off memories of Lucifer, of Gadreel. More than anything, he feels like a hypocrite. He wants to help his brother, but how can he do that if he can’t even forgive himself?

“It was…” Dean looks away, adam’s apple bobbing. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. When I had The Mark, I felt out of control, but  _ this…  _ I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stop the murders or the dreams; I couldn’t even control what I  _ said _ . He took everything from me.”

A warmth tickles Sam’s skin as the jagged nail finally draws blood. “I understand,” he says quietly, hoping that his brother won’t abandon the conversation now that he’s talking about himself.

“No.”

The boy’s hand slips at the single word, red a thin coating on his thumb. “What?”

“No,” Dean repeats, and his brother’s face pales a little further. Clearly this was the wrong way to go about the topic he wants to broach, the topic he  _ should’ve _ broached any time over the past eight years. “What I mean is…” He takes a deep breath and turns his gaze to Sam. “I’m sorry.”

Lips flutter open and closed as the boy attempts to grasp what he’s saying. “I don’t…” He cuts himself off, trying to remember the last time his brother spoke those words to him. “Why are you---”

“Because of Gadreel,” Dean interrupts. “And Lucifer. It’s me who doesn’t understand, Sam. It’s always been me, even now.” Seeing that his brother is about to respond, he holds up a hand, stalling him. “When I tricked you into saying “yes” to Gadreel, I thought I was saving your life. But I was only thinking about me. I didn’t--- I didn’t even consider that you’d hate what I did. I thought you’d be happy.”

“Dean---”

“Please.” The older hunter looks at his brother almost pleadingly, for once not ordering, but rather  _ asking  _ for permission to continue.

Sam rubs his hand on his jeans, staining the material with the tiniest bit of blood. It takes him a few seconds, but he finally nods his head.

Sitting back in his chair, Dean keeps his eyes on the boy’s face, making sure as he speaks to watch for any sign that Sam wants him to stop. “Kevin’s death is on me, not you. Anyone else you killed, that’s on me, not you. You being unable to control your own body…” Dean’s voice quiets as he continues, “That’s on me, not you.” He watches his brother for a moment. “And then there’s Lucifer.”

Sam feels his chest tighten, the name flooding his mouth with bile. He swallows hard, forcing it back down, the excess vomit like sticky needles in the back of his throat. A very large part of him doesn’t want to talk about this. Lucifer is dead. Sam and Jack even burned his vessel down to the bones. Sam thought that maybe,  _ just maybe,  _ after Lucifer was dead, he’d never have hear his name - let alone talk about him - ever again. But then there’s the part of him that wants to get it all out, that wants his brother to know what he went through. He just never expected that Dean would be the one to bring it up.

“Michael was grateful that I let him in, so he promised that he wouldn’t touch me.” The older hunter licks his lips. “He forced me to kill, but he kept his promise. He never laid a hand on me. I don’t think he cared enough. Half the time he didn’t even seem to remember I was there.” He clutches at his arm, pulling at the flannel sleeve. “But Lucifer paid attention to you, even when you weren’t possessed. I should’ve noticed how much he wanted you. From the first time I saw him, I should’ve noticed. But I didn’t. If I had, I never would’ve agreed to you saying “yes”.”

_ it was  _ my choice  _ too,  _ Sam wants to say, but he knows that if Dean had continued to question the decision to let Lucifer possess him, he might actually have said “no” and tried to find another way instead.

“I don’t know what he did to you while you were possessed. And I never even asked what he did to you in The Cage.” The older man fights a grimace as his mind draws forth memories more than ten years old. “You listened to me talk about Alastair; I should’ve done the same thing with Lucifer. Maybe I could’ve helped you. Maybe---”

“I wouldn’t have ended up in the hospital?” Sam offers up a faint smile. “You know that’s not true.”

“I still shouldn’t have treated you like I did.” The older hunter reaches his hands across the table, doing what Sam didn’t have the courage to do just a few minutes earlier. “Being possessed by Michael was terrifying. I was angry and afraid all the time; I still am. But I can’t even  _ begin  _ to imagine what you went through with Lucifer.” He releases a heavy breath as his brother stretches out his arms and touches their fingers together. “What he did to you matters, okay? Maybe not to Cas or anyone else, but it does to me.” Hands gently overlap, and the corner of his mouth pricks into a smile. “Sam, I---” He tries, but cuts himself off, unable to say the words. He’s always been unable to say them, that eight-letter whisper layered with a finality that refuses to allow them to breach his lips.

But Sam understands. He’s always understood. “Me too, Dean,” he says softly, the unspoken words encircling his heart. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know this was only supposed to be around 500 words, but I got slightly carried away.  
> \----------  
> This was to fulfill Caramiela's prompt of "Sam talking to Dean about horror of possession after he got rid of Michael."  
> \----------  
> In regards to QuestionableSanity's prompt, I'm going to put it up after I put up the next chapter of The Arsonist. And don't worry - Trials!Sam is one of my favorites and I'm going to comfort the hell out of that son of a bitch.


End file.
